


i love you (don’t you mind?)

by Pidonyx



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: M/M, Pining, THE KILLJOYS ARE NOT MCR, also this is really short, and That’s It. that is all i have for you, but really it’s just poison being a bitch, jet and ghoul are there right at the very end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24025585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pidonyx/pseuds/Pidonyx
Summary: Poison might be in love. Just a little.
Relationships: Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	i love you (don’t you mind?)

**Author's Note:**

> i’m back with more hastily chopped up and slapped together story fragments!
> 
> this is REALLY just another part from a scrapped longer project (actually, in fact, this is from the same project that smoke is in your eyes was from) that i liked because i'm a narcissist and thus i didn’t want to scrap like a normal person would have. i hope you can derive some enjoyment from it regardless but i really did like these few parts and not want to trash them completely so! god let’s just go
> 
> title is from me by the 1975 (yeah ik another song by this shitty band i KNOW. ok)

Poison doesn’t know when or how it happened, but  _something’s_ changed in his relationship with Ghoul. Or, more accurately, something’s changed on  _his_ end, because Ghoul’s the same around him as he’s always been, which is to say he tolerates him. Takes Poison’s sarcasm and thinly veiled insults with eyerolls and minimal dry commentary. Covers his back in a clap if he has to but otherwise mostly stays out of his way, because everyone in the crew knows that there’s some kind of bad blood there that hasn’t quite been cleaned up yet. If it’s ever going to be. And that’s a problem — one that Poison is responsible for, as usual — because Poison is finding himself not wanting to do that anymore.

Or, well, that’s an understatement, because Poison had been walking through the Diner’s main room one day when Ghoul and Kobra were huddled over the table working on some joint project that was one part electronic and two parts explosive, and Kobra had muttered something that made Ghoul laugh and shove his shoulder and Poison had thought,  _I wish he acted like that around me_ _,_ and then,  _his smile is really pretty_ _,_ and then he had been hit with the realization so hard it felt like he had actually had a car dropped on top of him and he’d hurried stiffly through the rest of the room so he could sit in the Trans Am and take some deep breaths.

Besides the fact that Ghoul ignored him at best, Ghoul also thought that Poison hated him, probably, because every single interaction they’d had in the past three years of continuously running into each other and then being sort of crewmates and then  _actually_ crewmates — specifically on Poison’s side — had done an excellent job of hammering that impression in. And then there was the whole issue of Ghoul being  _way too good for him_ anyways, never rising to the bait, never saying anything particularly nasty to Poison’s face no matter how much Poison goaded him, and being a genuine friend to both Jet and Kobra even as Poison continued to freeze him out. The fact that Jet and Kobra got along with Ghoul as well as they did only served to emphasize just how much the entire situation really was Poison’s fault.

And that’s all he can think about right now, miserably watching Ghoul and Jet fix the Trans Am from the shade of the Diner’s wall while pretending to read one of Kobra’s magazines, as an excuse to be near Ghoul without actually having to speak to him and risk an argument. It’s a special kind of torture, because he gets to see Ghoul smile and talk animatedly and smirk in good humor instead of bitterness all while knowing that he would never do that if it was Poison next to him instead of Jet. 

And it fucking  _sucks_ , because Poison is the one who  started it, and if Ghoul doesn’t want to be around him ever he can’t really blame him, even if it aches. It’s not like Poison can just say  _sorry about being a dick for three years but you have a really pretty face and would you let me kiss you_. That would be a pretty shit apology anyways. 

He hadn’t even realized he was learning things about him, so intent on being sullen and distant and rude that it hadn’t occurred to him that he might care enough to. But when he thinks about it, he’s noticed an embarrassing amount without even consciously trying. Ghoul is sly, and sarcastic, and his grin quirks up at the corner just so when he’s got a plan, and he’s got a dimple on the unscarred side of his face that deepens when he smiles genuinely, and his eyes will light up like stars when he’s talking about anything he likes. He’s clever with his hands, and he can build contraptions and weaponry in his sleep, never mind bombs, even when he’s completely engrossed in conversation. He’s sweet, in his own way — he’ll bring Poison a cup of Zones coffee (which really is about half a step up from dirt in water at best, but just about the most they can get in the desert), if it’s one of those nights where he can’t sleep and Ghoul’s still awake too, even if they don’t speak to each other, or he’ll tuck himself against Kobra’s side when he’s struggling to take in breaths from the sheer weight of it all, and help him get through the panic until he’s no longer shaking, or he’ll sit with Jet at the only remaining booth in the Diner and help him fill out the crossword in the paper, just to give him company. He has a way of brushing his hair out of his face, a way of talking with his hands, a way of moving through the space of their home that Poison hadn’t realized he’d become so familiar with until he’d  _looked_ at him and it had all hit him at once, crushing the air out of his lungs and he’d realized  _oh my god_. And it’s  _useless_ , it’s useless information because he feels about Ghoul a way that Ghoul will never feel about him, but he notices anyways.

And  _god_. He’s  _so fucking pretty,_ the kind of pretty that makes Poison’s stomach hurt. That wasn’t new. Poison had always been kind of flippantly able to acknowledge that Ghoul had nice eyes, but lately it was like some kind of veil had been lifted away and Poison could really  _see_ him, and he would find himself lingering on Ghoul’s eyes, hair, mouth, hands. The curve of black hair over tattooed fingers. A spark of light in brown irises. The slightest change in pigment as his lips press in a smile. The last one in particular makes Poison’s face go hot, if only because it makes him want to do embarrassing things like trace his fingers against them or put his mouth on Ghoul’s.

Poison’s startled from his thoughts by Jet clearing his throat above him, and he looks up from where he’d been blankly staring at a garishly red two-page spread to see him, with Ghoul hovering a few inches behind, standing over Poison with a poorly hidden smile. “We’re done,” he says, and there’s a sparkle in his eyes that makes Poison wonder in a hot flash of panic and mortification if Jet knows exactly why he’d been awkwardly skulking around their workspace all afternoon. 

He clears his throat to try and shake away some of the embarrassment and closes the magazine. “Cool.”  _Nailed it._

He sees Ghoul eyeing him from under Jet’s arm and, without really even thinking about it, flashes him a smile that — fuck — has maybe too much underlying affection to it, but before he can backpedal, before he can panic again, Ghoul’s mouth is tilting in a cautious return smile, and suddenly Poison can’t really breathe around where his heart is doing funny jumpy things behind his lungs. 

Jet’s giving him a weird look. “Okay, well, we’re gonna head inside. You coming?”

Poison flaps a flustered hand at him, hoping his face isn’t as red as it  _feels_ like it is, and in some miracle, manages to say, “Go ahead, I’ll be in soon,” in a normal tone of voice. 

As soon as both Ghoul and Jet have disappeared inside the Diner, Poison buries his face in his hands, digging his fingers into his hair and feeling his skin burn against his palms.  _Fuck_. He is  _so_ screwed. 

**Author's Note:**

> fuck it *links my sad gay playlist*
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3YivbCJrAJMkIwAchUCMiy?si=k7tgnv0kT26sMj51jV35hA


End file.
